


Finely Woven Memories

by fakemagpies



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Community: tfa_kink, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill, Prompt Taken Too Seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakemagpies/pseuds/fakemagpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Finn is slightly taken aback on how vulnerable the normally fearless Resistance general seemed at the moment. His eyes were still focused on the seemingly innocuous shirt the General lays on his lap. As her hand moves away, her fingers gently graze the marking stitched haphazardly on the back of the collar. </p><p>Ben."</p><p>Prompt fill for tfakinkmeme for the following scenario: "They broke up, a suitable amount of time has passed, the character of your choice is stuck with stuff that the ex never picked up/never tried to get back. Main question: Now what?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finely Woven Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Only edited lightly as I was writing so mistakes abound! Will polish it at a future time.

It itched.

That's the first thing Finn notices about the shirt he received from the med droid. It fit awkwardly, too: too much slack in the shoulders and a pinch too tight at the waist. The sleeves were too short and hideous pale green color clashed against his skin-tone. Finn understands it can't really be helped. The Resistance doesn't have the credits to spend on nice clothes for everyone, only functional and durable pieces could be afforded.

Still, Finn can't help but openly scratch and tug at the shirt that he's being forced to wear. Much to his relief, hanging on the back of the chair next to his bed was Poe's jacket, freshly washed and patched up as best as it could be after taking on a lightsaber. At least he still had a quality jacket.

"Finally awake?" The voice had a warm, honey quality and it took Finn a moment to register the General's voice as it drifted through the medbay.

Finn tried for a smile but between the shirt's prickly fabric rubbing against the wound on his back and his general grogginess, it came out lop-sided and strained. "Yeah, hopefully for more than just a couple of hours this time."

Leia's laugh was light. "You'll make it. You're healing a lot faster than we expected. So fast that the med-droid had to run a test to confirm you were even human."

"If this pain is any indication, then I think I am definitely human." Finn says, mustering the energy to return the laughter.

Silence overtakes the room as the General doesn't move from her position half-way between the door and Finn's bed. Finn notices the black long sleeve sweater held almost reverently against her chest. It was his old shirt, lovingly stitched up the back with purple thread. Leia noticed Finn's gaze lingering on the shirt and takes several more steps forward, finally sitting next to the bed.

Her head is lowered slightly and her fingers softly dance on the surface of the shirt. "I-I supposed you would also want this back."

Finn is slightly taken aback on how vulnerable the normally fearless Resistance general seemed at the moment. His eyes were still focused on the seemingly innocuous shirt the General lays on his lap. As her hand moves away, her fingers gently graze the marking stitched haphazardly on the back of the collar.

_Ben_

"He stitched it himself before he went off to train with Luke." She explains after a moment of silence, her eyes misty, still trained on the inscription on the shirt, "He insisted he do it; it was his favorite sweater. He was always so tall for his age, none of the clothes here ever fit him right and he was always so moody about it." The sadness in her face disappeared for a moment as she chuckled. "He saved up credits here and there and bought this for himself. It hung off his shoulders but he said it was worth it. Something about it being made of fine Fleuréline weave. Han kept telling him he was duped but Ben kept insisting. He was at that age..."

Finn's heart sank into his stomach as he heard the subtle crack in her voice. He wasn't sure what to say as she lifted her still-wet eyes to meet his. Her voice is as soft as her features, unsure if her question crosses that delicate line of politeness that has built up. "Were you two...?"

Finn gives a small, almost invisible nod. "Yeah." The wound on his back pulsates, as if urging him to tell the whole story. "But we had a bit of a...disagreement recently." It may be morbid considering Finn's near-death scare but he actually lets out a heartbroken little laugh. His tone is far-away, in a distant memory as he speaks, "At the end of the day, I couldn't convince him to come away with me."

Leia reaches for Finn's hand and squeezes. Her heart urges her to say something positive but her mind tells her that it wouldn't help.

Finn's eyes are now on the sweater again, his free hand caressing the fabric. "He gave this to me when we first got to Starkiller Base. He said I shivered too much. By the way he insisted and shoved the sweater into my hands, I would have sworn he thought I would catch some disease or freeze to death. Despite what he claimed, it was thinner than the regulation undershirt we all had to wear." The corners of his mouth tugged upward at the thought. "But it was comfortable and it had this distinctive smell; not that antiseptic smell everything in the First Order seems to have." The corners of his mouth complete their journey and Finn is smiling at a memory Leia isn't in on, "I never stopped wearing it under my uniform."

Leia sits quietly, relishing in Finn's words: proof that her son was still alive behind that mask. Capable of love, concern, generosity. This innocuous, tattered sweater, practically sixteen years old, was what Leia needed. What she could take to Han's little make-shift grave as a sign that their son--the Ben he'd called out to--is still there.

"Keep it." Finn says, looking the General in the eye. A restrained, tragic smile plays on his lips as if the words hurt him to say.

"Are you sure?" Leia's voice is quiet, hoping Finn didn't change his mind. Finn nods and it's his turn to squeeze the General's hand. The gratefulness in her eyes warms Finn's entire being. Her response is quiet, filled with a shyness that Finn is sure only few have heard. "Thank you."

The room falls into a comfortable silence and, with fingers still intertwined, their minds filled with memories and regrets as they each clutch onto the fabric between them.


End file.
